i am in this being really angry

Communicating with autistic people

In light of April & autism acceptance month I thought I’d make a post about how autistic people communicate, because understanding and accepting our communication styles is one of the most important parts of autism acceptance. The things listed here are from my own experience and from information I have gathered from talking to other autistic people, it is by no means exhaustive. If you want to add something on I have missed feel free :+)

  • Lack of eye contact doesn’t mean we aren’t engaged, oftentimes maintaining eye contact is actually more distracting than not. 
  • Our body language is different. Trying to assume how we feel from your knowledge of body language will often lead you to wrong conclusions.

  • Our tone does not always indicate our feelings, it’s often more telling to listen to the words we are saying themselves then try to guess what our tone means
  • We will likely have difficulty reading your body language and tone. The subtleties of communication don’t come easy to us, if you want us to understand what you are feeling or offer support it is most useful to communicate your feelings thoughts and needs directly.
  • Things we say may come off as rude or overly blunt, even if it is not intended this way.
  • We have varying degrees of understanding sarcasm. Some of us struggle to understand any of it, some of us actively understand and employ it and everything in between. We are also prone to literal-mindedness in general meaning we may have trouble with taking other forms of jokes or figurative speech literally. 
  • Our communication abilities often vary with things like stress and sensory input. For example, under little stress or a good amount of sensory input I can communicate enough to explain detailed thoughts as in this post, form sentences and employ tone and cadence to my speech. At varying levels of sensory input I may begin to speak in monotone, take several minutes to put together a single sentence, or be unable to access most of my vocabulary aside from sounds and simple words like “yes” and “no”. 
  •  It is very common for autistic people to empathize by comparing similar experiences. (for example: person a: “My dog got sick, I’m worried about him.” autistic person: “Oh, my cat got sick last year too.”) People who do not empathize like this often see it as ‘one-upmanship’ when the intent is only to empathize or express sympathy. 
  •  We may interrupt you before you’re done speaking. It’s very common for autistic people to have difficulty telling when other people are finished speaking. If we interrupt you it is almost never out of rudeness but we genuinely cannot tell when is the right time to speak.
  •  We may occasionally take over the conversation especially with info-dumping. When I info-dump I’m very excited and I feel like I can barely keep the information I want to talk about down. Being so excited, I tend to ramble for a long time, elaborating unimportant details as I am unaware to whether the listener is bored or even listening. I’m not saying you have to stay completely engaged and remember every detail but at very least don’t get angry with an autistic person for their infodumping.
  •  A lot of autistic people also have auditory processing problems. This means that what you say might not register for a few moments or you might have to repeat yourself. Please be patient with somebody who has poor auditory processing, as it’s not really something we can help. 
  •  If you are asking the autistic person to do a task or activity of any sort (giving them directions to somewhere, asking them to come to a party, asking them to help you fold your laundry) we usually need very clear and precise instructions or plans.

These are all common parts of autistic communication styles but it’s important to remember not every autistic person is the same or will have all of these traits. We are as varied in personality, thoughts, and behaviors as allistic people, but we are tied together by shared experiences. Being aware of these traits and unlearning them as inherently bad communication styles is helpful to autistic people as a whole, but if there’s a specific autistic person in your life you want to better communicate with, the best thing you can do is ask them how you can do that and honestly discuss differences in communication and needs to best understand each other.

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

Davai! (Or why Otayuri actually wins the world)


(Tweets by @Aki_the_Geek)

I’ve been thinking a lot about this comment of Kubo-sensei’s. It’s just the most adorable thing I have read in a while. I am not the biggest Otayuri fan, but only mostly because they’re seriously too young for me at this point. I do like their tandem, however, and I am enjoying the attention they are getting recently with the official photos and everything.

This comment, though, just paints such a cute picture for me: Otabek as a god of victory, like a mystical butterfly who ignores and flits past everyone else but chooses to rest on one particular mortal’s shoulder and bless him with strength and victory.

Listen, this is what is great about what Kubo-sensei said. Yuuri Katsuki has the gold rings that connect him to Viktor as his lucky charm - we know this. BUT! Yuri Plisetsky’s lucky charm, on the other hand, is Otabek Altin.

Yuri’s a great character. He is an angry teenager, but also a talented one who has big dreams and the actual skills to achieve those dreams. From the very beginning, we know this. It was even a point he has above Yuuri Katsuki.

He aims to win and does not see what others might consider obstacles. So what if it will be his first Grand Prix? He’s awesome. He won the juniors series. He can win as a senior, too.

Yuri, however, is also very immature. He is pretty poor at expressing himself and seems to shortcut through having to process most personal encounters and interactions by just being angry all the time. Affection for others embarrasses him, which is why he gets so high-strung around Viktor and Yuuri.

(I can’t really blame the kid, though. Those two just have no chill. They’re embarrassing.)

Interestingly though, Yuri seemed to calm down after Otabek came in the picture. It’s a complete 180. Yuri still had that passion, but somehow it became more tempered, less angry and more focused - so much so that the moment Otabek came in, Yuri broke a world record and then proceeded to win his first Grand Prix Final.

I am not saying that it is Otabek’s doing, like an actual god of victory. That would be ridiculous, and it’s more an expression than anything else. The timing is just pretty neat, and isn’t that how people develop lucky charms in the first place? You happen to have them right at the moment of a great win. It is also not as if Otabek was completely useless. He did provide a friend to Yuri, who thus far had been going on without someone he can actually call a friend. Everyone around him were either older than him, a competitor, a mentor or a teacher. I think Otabek calmed Yuri down by reminding him that he can just be himself… well, a cool version of himself anyway. Yuri actually sort of acted his age with Otabek around. For instance, this?

I thought Yuri was kind of cool-guy-posing here - you know, acting chill, even looks kind of smug. Lol, this reminded me so much of my younger brother when he was about Yuri’s age. He was such a useless brat at home and was pissed off at everything and nothing 99% of the time, but the moment his friends came over or one of them called him on the phone, he sort of became this cool version of himself - wittier, sharper, less fidgety. Lmao, his voice even became deeper. Smh at these boys…

What I also love about Otabek’s character is that he reminds us of Yuri’s name. Names are a big deal, okay, and I thought that Yuri being Yurio was kind of like him being a secondary character to Yuuri Katsuki - Yuuri #2, if you will. Ever since episode 2, Yuri is Yurio, and for every episode hence, he is Yurio. It was actually a bit of a shock to me when Otabek yelled this out in episode 11:

I was literally, “Oh yeah, that’s Yurio’s name.” I know Yakov and Lilia call Yurio by his name, but somehow it was when Otabek was calling him by this did Yurio become Yuri to me again. My theory is that it is Otabek’s manner, this I-know-you-call-him-Yurio-and-I-don’t-care-because-his-name-is-Yuri attitude he has going, that is somehow more convincing than anyone else. It is as if no one else matters in his world than Yuri Plisetsky. It is ridiculous to call him by anything other than his name because to Otabek, Yuri is Yuri #1. He probably calls Yuuri “the other Yuri”, “the Japanese Yuri” or just plain “Katsuki”.

So yeah, Otabek enters Yuri’s life and now Yuri has that source of affirmation that is outside family, who is a peer and even a close contemporary. He is no longer fighting alone. Yuri’s a strong guy, but he is still a kid, and at that age people can be quite vulnerable. No 15-year-old is so self-sufficient and self-confident that they can stand on their own at all times - at least not to my knowledge. That is why I love this friendship and why I love that Otabek came along. I think his coming triggered something that Yuri has long been building throughout the series but has yet to stabilize - his strength, his growth, his maturity as a skater as well as a person.

And actually, Yuri did win in the end. I think the series did not celebrate Yuri’s win enough and admittedly, even I was on such a high during those last weeks of the show that I could not be happy for him all that much. Episode 11? I couldn’t get over Yuri’s world record; I did not want to see Viktor dethroned. By episode 12, I still couldn’t look Yuri in the face. I was bitter about his world record and I was bitter about Yuuri Katsuki not winning the Grand Prix.

BUT, it’s time to face it: Yuri Plisetsky is amazing. He won the GPF on his senior debut. He beat a world record. His coach is obviously grooming him to be the next Viktor Nikiforov, and actually, the series has been hinting at it before hitting us on the face with it in episode 11 - Yuuri Katsuki is not the next Viktor Nikiforov, but Yuri Plisetsky is. What is more amazing is that he might even surpass Viktor, especially with Yuuri Katsuki as his main rival. Viktor never really had that one rival to push him up further than he thinks he can. We are told that his wins had wide margins from his other competitors. Viktor only had himself to beat each and every time. Yuri, on the other hand, won by a hair’s width and he knows it. He is even more driven now. He will push himself harder than Viktor ever had pushed himself, and that just might tip the scale a little bit more to future Yuri’s favor.

As for Otabek? Nah, he actually does not need to do anything. He is a lucky charm; he just needs to exist. With him around, Yuri is stable, and that’s all that this talented monster skater needs really.

Lol, look at this guy just watching his favorite so proudly:

“I’m not really needed here, but fuck if I’m not staying put to watch and join the cheering.”

Otayuri actually has a lot more going for them, future-wise. They are young, they are talented, and where Viktor and Yuuri are still struggling and see-sawing between victories and losses, Otayuri actually kept a steady climb. We already know and mentioned Yuri’s wins, but Otabek was also actually that steady character from the very beginning who skated well without question and was even the first to qualify for the GPF.

So, yes. In case you are asking, Otayuri is, in fact, the real power couple of the show.

Lmao, TL;DR - Otayuri just trumped Viktuuri and ultimately even stole their gold. The secondary OTP lowkey just beat the main OTP and I, albeit a hardcore Viktuuri shipper and just an Otayuri bystander at best, still find that really hilarious.

I’m just tired, man. Like there’s so much angry and negativity in the world, and the one safe place I had for the last few years, the place where I found strength to get out of a really bad situation in my life, is gone. Poof.

Maybe I’m being over-dramatic, God knows I am so often, but this one took a lot from me. 

Look. Felix (Pewdiepie) made a mistake, he thought his little “joke” was comedy, but as someone who’s been studying comedy for the past four fucking years, racism is not comedy. If you’re gonna target a group of people for the sake of a joke, you make damn sure they deserve it. Jewish people do not deserve it. Saying “death to” a group of people who have had the fucking shit kicked out of them for centuries is not fucking funny. It’s sad and, quite honestly, lazy. What pisses me off is that instead of 100% owning up to it, he’s trying to write it off as a “joke gone wrong.” Buddy. Admit you fucked up big time. Admit the joke was not funny and that it wasn’t humor. It was not comedy. By calling it comedy, you offend people who pour their heart and soul into making the masses laugh and feel good. 

And then, major Youtubers backed him up, saying he’s “just being himself.” People like Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Lordminion777, all people who in the past have supported love and acceptance. People who I’ve looked up to for years. Hell, I’d go as far to say Mark was an idol of mine. However, they all backed up someone who is too much of a coward and too into himself to admit he made a mistake. 

As someone who really admired these people, I’m hurt as hell. 

As someone who’s studied communications and public relations for the last four years, I’m pissed off as fuck. You wanna support him? Fine. But don’t try to step back from repercussions of doing so. You went into this mess, you STAY in. Pewdiepie landed himself in hot water and by supporting him just being his wacky ol’ self, you jumped right in too. I understand standing up for a friend, but if my friend went and pulled some shit like that? You bet your ass I’m calling them out. To pull from Harry Potter books, if Neville Longbottom can stand up to his friends, so can you.

To conclude, jokes about killing minorities isn’t comedy. If you try to use them for comedy, you’re lazy and you’re pretty pathetic. Pewdiepie is a grown adult, and needs to be held accountable for his actions.       

the more angry and organised a violent protest is, the more certain the media and politicians are that they must be ‘outside agitators’ - and I feel like the roots of this are not so much in fear of these spectral ‘outsiders’ as the firm belief that “ordinary” people don’t ever get angry and organise themselves - it’s unsupportable historically, but i really think they believe that it must be outsiders because it can’t be ordinary everyday folks - because to be ordinary, to them, is to be docile and malleable, capable of being whipped up by agitators, sure - but incapable of coming up with it yourself. You can feel it in the patronising way they talk to us.

I’m not saying that there has never been an instance of people coming from outside to cause trouble at a protest - but I am saying that when that’s the immediate, instinctual explanation that people arrive at in the absence of any evidence, it’s about discounting, diminishing and dismissing the agency of ‘ordinary’ people. It’s saying that whatever you’re experiencing, nomatter how bad it is, it could never make you angry enough to get organised and start hitting back. They can keep thinking that - we know it’s bullshit.

4

I Don’t Mean It Pt 4

After reading Taehyung’s text, you immediately excused yourself from dinner and left, grabbing all your belongings in a hurry and rushing out the door. You could hear your name being called our from the other boys, but you couldn’t stop. Not when the tears were already falling freely down your cheeks. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. What am I really worth to them?

Taehyung watched you leave silently, slightly shocked that you left so suddenly. He saw the boys call after you as they were pretty confused with why you left in the middle of the dinner. He balled his hands in fists, not knowing why he was so angry. Was he angry at you? Or angry at himself for making you leave and probably cry. 

Jimin followed after you, guessing the reason behind your sudden behavior. He noticed the second Taehyung started texting you, the way your face changed and you looked like the you were about to cry in any second. But by the time he ran after you, it was too late. You had already shut the door to your apartment. He spent a few minutes trying to get you to open the door, but he knew deep down that you were in no mood to talk.

Namjoon stared at Taehyung and also noticed how irritated he looked. 

“Yah, Taehyung-ah. What the hell is going on?” he asked, looking right at him.

“How is he supposed to know??” asked Jin.

“Why do you think she fucking left?” asked Jimin, standing at the entrance at their dorm.

“Taehyung-ah, what is he talking about?” asked Hoseok.

But Taehyung didn’t answer. Instead, he chose to lock himself in his room.


A/N: I hope you liked part four. Some of you guys requested a drabble at the end, so thank you, I’ve been meaning to write one~ Do y’all want a part 5? let me know! Whats going to happen to the guys and Y/N? let me know what you think~ 

Previous Parts: Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

We Need To Talk About Ramona Blue:

TO EVERYONE WHO GAVE THIS BOOK ONE STAR WITHOUT READING IT:

First off, know that I am not going away. I am going to stand here and scream this from the rooftops as many times as I have to. Because I am tired of my voice and my story being drowned out. This book tells my story. If I get even one person to at least consider they might be wrong, if even one person buys this book because of me, then I’ve made a difference. 

I respect your opinion and based off of the original synopsis I completely understand why you felt that way - indeed I agree with you. I understand why the initial synopsis made you angry, really I do. The b.s. trope that lesbians (or any LGBT+ girl) can be ‘cured’ by finding the right boy is not just offensive and incorrect, but incredibly, incredibly harmful. And when it’s used as much as it is, it leads to people in the real world justifying their homophobic thoughts with - “I can f**k that girl, she’s secretly straight anyway. I can make her change her mind. She just needs the right guy.” Corrective rape is a very real danger and one that is directly impacted by words like those in that synopsis.

But this isn’t what the book is about. When the author, Julie Murphy @andimjulie, was informed of how offensive and harmful the synopsis/blurb was she started arranging to have it changed. Because here’s the thing: authors don’t get to write those. Some random person at the publishing house does. It’s that random person that made the harmful words and who misunderstood the book.

The new synopsis is up on this goodreads page now  . Please read it and maybe consider changing or removing your rating?

Because this book isn’t about 'lesbians can be cured.’ This book is about bisexual girls, girls just like me, who grow up not knowing that they are bi. Believing that because they like girls they must therefore be lesbians or because they like boys they must therefore be straight. I’m the latter; in this heteronormative world I spent years believing I was straight before I realised.

This book is for all the girls like me who think they fit into one box because they like someone and then one day, realise they have feelings for a different gender. It is about how confusing and scary and downright terrifying that is. It is about lying awake all night thinking “but does liking this boy mean i was straight all along?” “do i actually like him or is it because i’m supposed to?” it’s about worrying that you can’t change your identity because people already know you as a 'lesbian.’ Worrying that you’re just attention seeking or greedy or unable to make up your mind, that you’re on the fence and you need to choose.

This book is about the moment of relief when you finally find the name that suits you - bisexual. Or, perhaps when you decide that it’s okay to not know for sure right now. And how much weight is taken off you once you know who you are, and you have an identity.

I haven’t read the book yet but the new revised synopsis reflects that the book will actually be about those topics. You’re punishing the author for what someone else misunderstood and wrote as a harmful piece of promotion. Notice how different (and not harmful) the synopsis is now that it’s been written with the author’s suggestions instead of just by some dude? That to me suggests that the book itself, written entirely by her, will be much more like the new synopsis than the old one.

Oh, and you will also notice that I mentioned I haven’t read the book yet. So how then, you wonder, am I able to sit here and say that the book will be about all of the things above?

Because I am that girl. I went through all of those things. Mine was vice versa to Ramona - I believed that I had to be straight because I liked boys and if you like boys that’s all you can be right? Wrong. It was so, so hard for me to figure out who I am, where my place in this world is. It took me four years to get where I am (I’m 18 now). And I still haven’t finished this journey - my parents don’t know. I know, from reading this new synopsis, that that is what this book is about because I have lived it. I know because the author is bisexual, married to a man - she has lived it too.

Tumblr I just don’t get it. We cry and cry for more representation but when you have it you destroy it’s chances with negative reviews before it’s even begun. All because it’s the “wrong sort” of representation. You don’t want this bi girls story, my true story, because it shows that sometimes girls who like girls also like boys. Not always but sometimes. And sometimes we end up with those boys. 

Please, buy this book. Promote this book, please at least undo this low rating until you have read it. This book could have saved me so much heartache when I was fourteen. It could have let me know that I was not alone. It could have saved me six months of self-harm, an emotionally abusive relationship, bullying for being 'frigid.’

I didn’t have this book when I was facing all those things. But the next bi or pan girl could. We could save them.

Representation is important. Lesbian representation and positive, good representation at that, is important. But so is bi girl representation. And this book just happens to be one for the bi girls. This doesn’t have to be either or, bi girls existing doesn’t mean that lesbians do not. Please, let’s not harm each other’s chance at representation. Let’s support each other.

Please, at least let’s read this book before we give it a rating. Please help the next girl like me before she is hurt.

Unpopular Opinion about Cultural Appropriation in the Spirit Keeping Community

So here’s a popular belief: We should not work with spirits that are not a part of our own culture. Okay… I can understand that to an extent. Some cultures are very sacred, and we Americans are trademarked as being brash and… kind of unappreciative of what we have. But listen. Here’s the unpopular side.

We aren’t forbidden from working with spirits of other cultures. Am I forbidden for working with the Aztec goddess Xochiquetzal because I’m a Caucasian American? No, I’m not. After a year of enlightening work and meditation with her, I never felt like she was angry that I worked with her. In fact I felt that she was calling as my matron for some time before I even knew who she was. I work with many different culture spirits, and here’re my thoughts:

Cultural appropriation is really, really silly when it comes to the spirit world. Yes, it’s important for you to understand other cultures depending on what spirits you’re working with because you don’t want to offend them by giving them the wrong kind of offering or performing the wrong kind of ritual, but if you have the spirit’s permission to work with them, what’s the big deal? Besides, many of us have had past lives from different cultures, and we like to connect to our past life soulmates and previous friends. Cutting off ties with certain spirits because of their culture is not cultural appropriation IMO. It’s racism. It’s being SO careful about who you offend that you’re actually offending the spirit you’re trying NOT to. I hope that makes sense. You’re being overly careful here. If you call on a spirit and they say, “I don’t want to work with you because you’re a _____,” then thank them for their time and say goodbye. And DON’T WORK WITH THEM.

But if the spirit in question is completely fine with working with you, I think you would be doing DAMAGE to your relationship with them and offending them more if you said, “I can’t work with you because I’m a ______ and not a _______ of your culture.”

I’ve had Arab Djinn approach me in the past. Japanese Tanuki and Kitsune, Catholic Saints, Germanic Alps, Romanian Vampires, and Greek god messengers. I accept them all as friends or mentors, and I appreciate and respect their cultures. Unlike the popular opinion on Americans, I don’t take, take, take. I accept the spirit, appreciate their culture, and respect them.

…I’m gonna get so much hate for this. I just know it.


~Lu

The Mean Marquis

Lafayette x Reader

Note: So @a-schuylerr made a post about different Lafayette fic scenarios they would like to see and I got inspired. Thank you to @thatoneimaginesblog for being my proofreader and for putting up with me spamming you with my process on this fic. This is my longest fic and I am really excited for you to read it!

Warning: smut and that’s basically it

Word Count: 7,204 ( I expected it to be long just not this long)

Tagged: @hamiltonsquills @mehrmonga @iamgrayfox @rottwat @beckett-faye @justanotherone2u @aph-bermuda @haletotheking24


1772

When your father first announced that you were to marry a French nobleman in just over a month, you felt as if your throat had fallen into your stomach. You were angry and shocked, so angry that you could hardly form a sentence before you stormed off.

That was three days ago, your anger had subsided and left you feeling worried. Worried about the man you were going to be married to. He wasn’t just any old French nobleman he was the Marquis de Lafayette, more affectionately known as the “Mean Marquis”. You’d heard stories about him about his ruthless and cold nature when it came to business. You had also heard about how popular he was with women, and that he was always surrounded by them.

“It’s just not fair!” you yell. You’d walked far enough away from you family’s home that you know you can speak without being heard. “I don’t even know him why should I marry him?” you groan as you sink to your knees.

You take a deep breath as you feel yourself start to panic. How on earth is he going to treat me? You wonder. After everything you’ve heard about him, the best you can hope for is that he will ignore you. He will probably give you a child or two but for the most part, just forget you even exist.

Keep reading

relatable bpd shit

- getting nauseous while feeling an emotion really strongly

- romanticizing death but getting angry when others do it

- random violent intrusive thoughts

- reading posts like these and not relating to every single point and feeling like you’re a fake borderline

- “i just met you but I AM SO IN LOVE WITH YOU”

- “..nvm i hate you fuck off”

- finding identity in the simplest things, like songs and movies

- literally wanting to kill yourself if anything goes wrong

- breaking down at every realization that you have to live with this forever.

Was sent home today because of the flu (it came in like a wrecking ball, I tell you) and when my teacher led me to the door – telling me “If I take my eyes of you, you would probably try to sneak back in” – one of my classmates said behind my back “Sick again? Geez, she’s so weak!”.

It’s not like she was very quiet, and a few others started laughing, so both my teacher and I heard her. I felt ready to keel over, but I still said, “No, it’s okay” when my teacher wanted to turn around and call her out on it.

It’s not like I don’t appreciate the fact that my teacher would stand up for me. It’s just that I literally don’t care if they say stuff like that. That’s because of something my brother told me long ago.

I’ve always been a bit sickly. Probably because of my premature birth – being born three months too early means that lots of things didn’t have a chance to fully grow. Apart from some other little things, my immune system is much weaker than average, Thus, when I was little, I literally spent half of my time in different therapies or with trips to the doctor.

Now, it’s not easy to explain to little children why their classmate has to go see the doctor so often. So when I was in kindergarten, my peers often laughed at me or asked question that I couldn’t answer.

“Why are you always sick? Why do you limp? Why does the teacher have to help you walk up stairs?”

And then, finally, when I was five or six and sent home again because of having a fever, one of the children concluded loudly, “Is she more often sick than us because she’s weaker than us?”

Somehow, that scared me. I was too young to understand why I was so different than other children, but I understood that I was. And the thought of being weak, being a burden to others because of that, really scared the hell out of me.

It’s no wonder I was crying when I arrived home – my parents were still at work, and I would have to ask my big brother to tell them I was sick yet again. And still I was so, so scared that I’m weak and a burden.

My brother almost dropped his plate of food when he saw me limping into the room, crying loudly and with cheeks red of fever. “Little sis! What happened?!”

“I’m sick again!” I managed somehow, hiccupping like crazy. Everything hurt, which made me cry even harder.

“Hey, hey, shhhh, it’s okay, everything is okay,” lifting me up, my brother placed me on the couch, tucked me in and went to get everything. By now, it was almost routine between us – lots of water to drink, a cold wet cloth against my fevered skin, and some movies to watch so I wouldn’t get bored.

But even then, I couldn’t stop crying.

“Does it hurt so much?” My brother was at a complete loss, dabbing my face with the wet cloth. “Should we go see the doctor?”

“N-No!” I cried even harder – now I had to go see the doctor again? That made me even weaker, right? “I d-don’t wanna be weak!”

The dabbing stopped, and my brother lifted me up gently, tugging me into his lap. He was frowning as he cradled my face in both hands and asked softly, “Baby girl, who said you’re weak?”

“I’m s-sick so often because I’m too weak, right? The others said so…”

“Well, the others are fucking stupid, then.”

That shut me up pretty quickly and I sniffled with wide eyes. We had been taught not to swear, and that was the first time my brother had ever looked angry.

“Now listen here,” my brother adjusted me so that he could hold me with one arm, the other hand taking up the cloth again to press it against my heated forehead. “You’re the opposite of weak, okay? You’re a fighter. In fact, baby girl – you’re fighting right now.”

“I… I am?”

“Sure you are! Did nobody ever tell you?” Looking around, my brother waved me closer, whispering quietly as if it was a secret “Being sick is actually being in a fight, you know?”

Really?” I was transfixed by that, but I would never have doubted my big brother. I had spent a long, long time believing that everything he said was true.

“It is! You know, the illness? That’s actually a tiny, tiny little army of viruses that’s attacking you. They’re so tiny, you can’t even see them!” He showed me how tiny by pressing forefinger and thump together, nodding all the while. “And you and your body, you have to fight this tiny army. And that’s why everything hurts so much – because you’re taking hits while fighting. But you fight back, and you win, and then you get better. Every time. You see, little sis, you’re like, a knight! A brave knight fighting many armies. The others? They’re not that strong. They couldn’t fight so many armies and still win. So don’t listen to them, alright?”

“Alright,” I agreed solemnly, eyes falling closed as sleep creeped up on me.

“That’s my brave girl. And now, the little knight goes to sleep, so that she can fight with new strength later.”

It was the last time that I thought of myself as weak for being sick so often. From then on, every time I felt bad – be it because of an average illness or depression – I thought of the whole thing as a battle that I have to fight and win.

The whole thing is not even that silly. Think about it – especially those who are somehow fighting their own battles right now. You’re fighting, now or then or in the future. Even though you’re probably feeling terrible, you don’t give up, but keep on going, keep on fighting back whatever makes you feel horrible. How is that supposed to be weak? That’s the opposite of weak! It takes strength and courage to fight. You’re not weak, everyone – you’re super strong and brave, and amazing in general.

Don’t let anybody tell you you’re weak when in reality, you’re a fighter.

tfc characters as things ron swanson said
  • Nicky: Never half ass two things, whole ass one thing.
  • Kevin: There will be alcohol so I will go as well.
  • Aaron: When people get too chummy with me, I like to call them by the wrong name to let them know, I don't really care about them.
  • Andrew: I'm just gonna stay angry. I find that it relaxes me.
  • Neil: The less I know about other people's affairs, the happier I am. I'm not interested in caring about people.
  • Matt: There is only one thing I hate more than lying-skimmed milk, which is water that's lying about being milk.
  • Dan: If there were more food and fewer people, this would be a perfect party
  • Allison: I like saying 'no'. It lowers their enthusiasm.
  • Renee: The government is inefficient and should be dissolved.
  • Wymack: I also think it's pointless for a human to paint scenes of nature when they can go outside and stand in it.

This is in response to a very near and dear to me character's disappearance from S4. I need answers, Julie!

——

“Isak?”

“Even.”

“Isak…”

“Even.”

“So no chance of being adults about this, then?” Even sighs and gets up to crack his neck, avoiding the gaze of the smaller irate boy glaring at him from the couch.

Isak’s eyes positively glower, “I am the most adult. I am the adult-est adult in the entire spanse of adulthood.”

“Clearly,” Even makes his way to the kitchen, and when he returns it’s with two plates of Isak’s favorite dinner. “I already apologized.”

“Yeah to Jonas. What about me?” Isak sniffs, but moves a little closer to the chicken and macaroni dinner, “This smells really good, but I’m still angry.”

A quirk of the lips, “You think this smells good, wait till you see dessert.”

Isak takes a bite of the macaroni and sighs, because fuck Even can cook. He knew how to make even the simplest of meals turn into a 5 star rating on the hungry 2nd year cook-o-meter, “You think I don’t see that you’re trying to bribe my forgiveness with food and sex?”

“Who said anything about sex?”

“Oh,” Isak swallows another bite, “I had assumed that would come later.”

Even tilts his head to consider, though the smile on his lips made it clear he had made his mind up on that issue many a time ago. “Hmm. I guess that can be an option.”

“You guess. He guesses. I am traumatized, Even! Absolutely traumatized- I need the comfort of my boyfriend in these trying times.”

Even groans, laying his head back to the top of the couch, “It was a hat, Isak. A hat.”

Isak wonders if it’s too dramatic to claim that the hat was his best friend.

Disposable pt 15

Being friends with benefits with Min Yoongi can be complicated (at best) by itself. But when you accidentally tell your family (and his boss) that the two of you are dating, things get messy. It only complicates things more when you blackmail Yoongi into pretending to date you, and neither of you can quite keep your feelings separate, no matter how much you try.

Angst, fluff, slight smut at times.

Yoongi x Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14


Once you got a grip of yourself, you made your way back outside to the party. You avoided Yoongi for the rest of the night, busying yourself talking to anyone but him. Part of you wanted to demand to know why he always had to hurt you, and what you had ever done to deserve it. Another part of you wanted to crawl under the covers of your bed and cry while eating ice cream. Neither were options at the moment, so you settled for evasion. Not that Yoongi was making that very easy, he kept trying to talk to you. He would catch your elbow and ask if he could have a minute, and you would blow him off every time.

“I’m busy.” You said for what had to be the tenth time that night.

“You’re really not, this time. Please, can you just tell me what’s going on with you?” Yoongi pleaded. His eyes looked genuine, and you realized that all the smiles and laughter from the previous day must have been all a show—maybe so it would all hurt that much more when it was over. You guessed you should have known, from the day you first met Namjoon for lunch you had seen that Yoongi was a good actor. In the back of your mind, a little voice was saying that it was your fault for blackmailing him in the first place, because who wouldn’t want revenge in some way after that?

“Nothing is ‘going on’ with me. Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

Yoongi’s eyes flashed with hurt, and he dropped the hand that was holding your arm. “I don’t get it, what did I do?”

You let out a sigh of frustration. “I said we would talk later.”

You could see the beginnings of annoyance on Yoongi’s face, which just furthered your own. He was the one who was always going out of his way to hurt you, but you don’t want to talk to him for once and he gets his feelings hurt? It wasn’t fair, none of it was, and you realized you didn’t even have anyone to talk to about it. The only person who knew your whole situation with Yoongi was Jackson, and he had left abruptly several hours earlier. He said something about getting an urgent phone call and ran off before you ever got a chance to talk to him.

Taehyung was waving to you, and you walked over to where he sat slightly reluctantly. He was holding his cat, the one he twisted his ankle rescuing, kissing its head before looking back at you. “What’d he do?” He asked. You weren’t particularly happy with Taehyung at the moment either, as long as he had known you (and your mother) you felt like he should have known better than to repeat what Yoongi said to your mother, but you knew that it must have been an accident. Your mother was good at getting exactly whatever information she wanted out of someone, and if Taehyung hadn’t given it to her, someone else would have eventually.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said tersely. Taehyung rolled his eyes at you, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

“You look like you want to punch Yoongi every time you look at him.”

“You know what, Taehyung? Our relationship really isn’t any of your business. In fact, it isn’t any of anyone’s business, so I don’t know why everyone has to know everything about it all of the time.”

“You’re mad at Yoongi, not me, remember?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

“No, I’m mad at everyone who seems to think they have some right to know everything about my life. I shouldn’t have to justify everything I do to everyone I know.” Maybe some of your anger was misplaced, but you couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. You turned on your heals and walked away from where a completely bewildered Taehyung sat. You didn’t bother to talk to anyone you passed by, ignoring their attempts to gain your attention. You passed Jungkook walking up the stairs to go inside, and he caught your eye for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

“I wish people would stop fucking asking me that.” You snapped as you walked passed him.


The bedroom door clicked behind Yoongi, but he didn’t move further into the room. The party had finally ended, and you still weren’t talking to him. He had decided that maybe he should just let you have your space, but you still had to share a room.

You were on your phone when he walked in, and looked up briefly to scoff and roll your eyes before turning your eyes back to the screen.

“Look, if I did something, you have to talk to me. Just being angry isn’t going to fix anything.” He said, trying to contain his own annoyance. You were being a child, and he really didn’t have the patience for it right then.

“Right, like that would do any good. You just want to hear how miserable I am. You’re a fucking sadist.”

Keep reading

Dating Kim Jongin...

* Him always touching you
* “Jagiya”
* Shyly smiling and giggling when you flirt with him
* Laying his head on your stomach when you guys are watching movies in bed
* Speaking of which, nEVER LEAVING YOUR BED
* having days where neither of you leave the bed all day
* And ordering food
* Because you’re too lazy and comfy to move
* He would have the warmest skin
* Like a walking heater
* Letting you warm your feet up on his legs
* Innocent showers and baths together where you just talk
* Having to try and talk him out of getting more dogs
* Him being a 6 year old about it and whining
* Thinking it’s cute when you burp
* Getting turned on by you wearing his clothes
* “Honey”,“babygirl”,“sugar plum”
* Him spoiling you 24/7 just because he loves to see you happy
* Dance battles to settle an argument
* Spending extra time during sex to kiss every single inch of your body
* “You’re so gorgeous”
* Hickies and neck biting
* He would live to eat you out
* Because he loves the feeling of power
* And hearing you whimper
* Taking such good care of you after sex
* Making sure he didn’t hurt you and being so upset with himself if he was too rough
* moRNING SEX
* LIKE EVERY MORNING
* Slow and deep kisses
* And just staring into each other’s eyes
* Grabbing your ass always
* Playing with your hair
* Buying you food when you’re angry at him for paying more attention to the dogs
* Always trying to feed you honestly
* Getting really upset when you talk about your weight and dieting
* “You’re perfect just the way you are, jagiya. Don’t ever change”
* Being a dork and making lame jokes
* Honestly just dating the softest bear in the world

I literally wrote this at 3 am. Because this is what I think of before bed 😂 I hope you guys like it and request box is open! Let me know what member I should do next 💖

Originally posted by jngn-km

Me, before relationship: really into hermit time, dislikes spring and summer, dislikes the countryside, hates singing, hates other people singing, hates yellow, loves black, loves red lipstick, is into being bitter and really, really into fandom and being skinny.

Me, in relationship: has realized excess hermit time is sign of depression, suddenly looks forward to spring, wants to move to the countryside and raise a goat, makes up silly songs for everything (complete with improvised dances), suddenly likes yellow flowers, prefers pink to red lipstick, is annoyed with bitterness, has no interest in fandom, and is really into baking things with butter. 

anonymous asked:

Can u write a zach imagine Where the reader is zachs Gf and hannahs sister and very well liked by everyone and the people on the tapes dont want her to Find out about them but she does and is mad and especislly at zach

title: forgiveness, can you imagine?

word count: 1692

note: deadass rewrote this 5 million times until i was finally happy with how it turned out. it’s super fuckin long too wtf i love zach too much maybe idk


Hannah’s death had torn you apart, that much was true. Your sister had left no note, no letter, for you or your parents. Instead, she left behind shattered hearts and ruined lives, tearing everyone to shreds. Your parents pushed for a lawsuit, claiming that maybe Hannah had been bullied and it was the school’s fault for not stopping it. Maybe it was the truth; her life had turned sour when rumors flooded the school that involved her and multiple people.

Zach had been keeping secrets, that much was true. You never pushed, never prodded; if he wanted to tell you, he would. But these secrets, these were the ones that were going to tear you apart. It was affecting your relationship and the ties you had with everyone in your circle: Marcus, Justin, Jessica, Sheri, too many more to count. It was concerning you and they wouldn’t let you in on what they knew.

He hadn’t intended for you to find out ever, and even if you did, he didn’t intend for you to find out in the way that you did. You were Hannah’s sister for God’s sake; if you were going to know about the tapes, the tape team wanted it to be because they had shown you. Of course, Clay fucking Jensen (as Justin so lovingly put it) had to go and screw everything up.

They knew that he was the last one who had had the tapes in their possession; they knew he hadn’t passed them on yet. The last thing they had expected him to do was show them to Hannah’s very own sister. It wasn’t ever expected, something they would have taken to the grave with them if need be.

As Zach walked up to the front door of the Baker household that fateful Saturday afternoon, he could see your bedroom through your open curtains and blinds. You were sitting on your bed, a tape player in hand, headphones over your ears, and the most devastated look on your face; Clay was sitting in the chair at your desk, looking equally upset. In that moment, the boy standing outside your house knew.

He told the group, let them know that there was a storm on its way. It could be a silent, deadly one that severs their ties with no words or one that began with yelling and ended in tears. He didn’t know what to expect now. Courtney and Jessica were fearful, they were close to you; Zach was even more scared, he was your boyfriend after all and he really, genuinely cared about you.

Monday came and went without incident. You ignored everyone in the group. When you were walking in their direction, you put your head down, pretending to not notice them. They noticed that as soon as your back was to them, your head would lift and your stride was quick and long.

The end of the school day, in your opinion, was the best part of your day recently. You escaped with your dignity, no confrontation with your closest friends. Your luck, however, had run out when you reached your home, Zach waiting by the front door, his body leaning casually as it always did against the wood barrier; you slammed your car door harder than you meant to.

“What are you doing here, Zachary?” you asked, nudging past him to unlock the house.

He was taken aback, he’d never heard your voice dripping with such venom. It was a new sensation, this absolute dread he felt when you’d said his full name. “Am I not allowed to drop by my girlfriend’s house and see her?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping over the threshold and jiggling your key out of the lock. You wished he’d just leave, catch the drift that you were mad at him. How could he stand there and act as if you hadn’t heard what he’d done to your sister, been one of the reasons that she’d been driven to take such drastic measures?

“I’m not so sure anymore,” you mumbled, setting your backpack by the door and making your way to the kitchen.

The door shut behind you; Zach was following and you didn’t want him to. He was leaning against the counter when you turned from getting a snack out of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?”

Feigning innocence.

“Ask Hannah,” you snapped quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Oh wait, you can’t, can you?”

This was what he was afraid would happen all day at school; he was hoping it would happen there, so everyone could see it. Then everybody in school would see how bad he had fucked up, how bad everyone on those goddamned tapes had fucked up. Here it was, though, happening in the kitchen of the very house Hannah had died in, silent and driven to an extreme that she shouldn’t have been driven to. It was intimate, just the two of them; the air was so silent, he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and seemingly echoing through his whole body.

“[Name], listen-”

Your face burned, your eyes were blurry, your throat was closing rapidly. “No, Zach, you listen. How could you do that to my sister, to me? I don’t understand how you can hold hands with me in the hallways and kiss me when nobody is looking, and not feel bad for what you’ve done! Why would you steal those notes from her? Were you mad that she had turned down your comfort? She had been so wronged by everyone in your stupid fucking group that she couldn’t trust you, she thought it was a dare when you tried helping her. Just… How can you even look at me?”

Then you were crying. Breaking down right in front of Zachary Dempsey. It was embarrassing, but after three days of holding in feelings of betrayal and sadness, you finally had a way to let it out. And he held you, even though you tried hard to push yourself out of his arms, away from the person you hated and loved all at once.

“Hear me out, please.” The desperation in his voice was beyond evident. “I tried to help her. I really, really wanted to. After Marcus assaulted her, I went back to the diner and tried cheering her up, but she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. So I tried again in the cafeteria, but she completely blew me off. I took those notes without knowing what they meant to her and then she left me that note.”

“S-She said you threw that away.”

“I didn’t. She thinks she saw me throw it away and it’s valid. She saw it a different way than what actually happened. But I have it. It’s in my wallet. The thing is, though… I feel so bad, so bad. I’m the only one on those tapes trying to own up and take responsibility for what I did. Justin, Bryce, Courtney… They won’t ever admit that what they did was wrong, what they did hurt her, but I will. I’m telling you right here, right now. I wish I hadn’t done what I did. If I could go back in time, stop myself from being so angry when she humiliated me in front of everyone at school, I would.”

The tears were still streaming, a steady flow of warmth falling from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and dousing Zach’s shirt under his Letterman jacket; it smelled strongly of some cologne you had gotten him for his birthday and faintly of the caramel mocha he always ordered from Monet’s. You wished it wasn’t so comforting.

“I am genuinely sorry for what I’ve done. To Hannah, to you, to your family. I really do understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, [Name]. Seriously.”

You thought, leaned tiredly against his chest, your cheek pressed just above his heart. It was a hard decision; this was the first boy you’d ever loved, first one you had ever told as such, but what he did was wrong. Like he said, though, he was the only one really owning up to what had happened in his tape so far. Justin, Courtney, Sheri weren’t at your door apologizing for their mistakes.

Zach could practically feel the anxiety growing in his stomach, a frightening grip in his gut that reached threateningly up through his chest and closed his throat. It seemed like ages before you said anything and he let out a breath he had been holding.

“Can you just… Give me a break? I really love you, don’t get me wrong, but I’m really mad at you right now. I just need some time to calm down, clear the air a little bit.”

He pulled his arms tighter around you, almost like he was afraid that if he let you go, you’d disappear just as Hannah had. The girl had been right about one thing; he was lonely, too. Not like she had been, but he was. And it showed.

“Is it bad that I would have been worried if you said you didn’t need a break?” he joked, his voice dripping with tears he didn’t know had welled up.

You laughed a little, clearing the air. “No, I don’t think so.”

It was almost like losing a comfort blanket when you unraveled yourself from his body and he wanted nothing more than to pull you back into him, revel in your warmth and the nearly tangible love that you exuded. He was about to say something when your hands found his cheeks and guided him down to your level so you could press a quick, chaste kiss to his forehead. Even after your lips had left his skin, your hands stayed on his face and he stayed leaning down, his eyes closed and his own hands holding your wrists as if to keep yours in place.

“It’s just a break, okay? Don’t go chasing after any other girls.”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it when you’re the only one I love.”

“I love you, Zach. Don’t forget that.”

“I love you, too. I’d never forget.”

Actually, you know what, it is making me really angry, so I will point out why the idea of “relationship anarchy” does not hold up to radical analysis.

In any relationship, there are boundaries for how that relationship can be a healthy relationship that I am comfortable being a part of. My boundaries reflect me as a person and what my personal feelings and needs are. This does not simply pertain to romantic relationships–for example, if my mother were extremely abusive and homophobic, I would be well within my rights to immediately sever our relationship, although there are decades of history and love between us.

Likewise, in any romantic relationship here are boundaries for what they person can do and still be in a romantic relationship with me. My comfort is something I should be able to nurture, and if they do not feel able to fill those needs and cannot keep from crossing those boundaries, that is fine. Then the relationship will end.

To assume that my boundaries are the issue, and not the abusive inability to let someone break up with you or to ultimately accept a separation, is to blame the blame for a person’s trust being violated on that person for having the trust.

This isn’t something that makes me want to discuss, it honestly makes it readily apparent that it is easy to move from one extreme to another. If you have no ability to leave or end a relationship, that isn’t a healthy relationship. And if you have no ability to make informed consent about a person being with you sexually/romantically/etc., that isn’t a healthy relationship. Nobody owes you all the details of their life. But if those details are an important facet regarding your choice to engage with them sexually or romantically, then not telling you is a way of getting around your full consent by telling you that it doesn’t matter.

I don’t think that having conditions upon what you will and will not do for a person based on their actions is ownership. And to claim that all monogamous relationships are a function of hetero-patriarchy, quite frankly, is pretty disrespectful to lesbians. And frankly, I have seen the claim that non-monogamy is inherently more progressive used as a force of gaslighting and social pressure towards many gay people I know, so the claim leaves a deeply sour taste in my mouth.

anonymous asked:

do you have any tips regarding writing john, jade, dirk, jane, or jake in pesterlogs?

The biggest tip I have for general pesterlog writing is to go find an actual canon pesterlog for whatever character(s) you’re going to write and read it, first. It REALLY helps with settling into the voice. Pesterlogs aren’t just specific quirks, it’s the way each character uses their quirk to change how their sentences flow and the kind of pool of vocabulary they each pull from. They each kinda have a different internet language. I use mspawiki’s links under the character portraits to quickly find conversations when I’m doing this cause it lets you quickly look up pesterlogs by act and characters involved.

other than that, for Dirk you have to remember that Dirk always wants to sound smart and capable and put together but his uncool nerdy side is constantly slipping through the cracks and undermining this goal. Also any time Dirk Strider has An Emotion Of Any Kind in a pesterlog he tries really hard to smooth it over with sarcasm or rambling joking (a lot like Dave but a little more self aware – Dave just lets himself drown in his own bullshit, Dirk is aware that he is about to drown and desperately looking for the ladder out.) And whenever he actually does snap at someone (he does it with Jake and Roxy sometimes off the top of my head – I seem to recall he’s generally more gentle with Jane overall) you can tell he always feels like immediate fried shit about it and even about being angry in the first place and all of his negative emotions are paired with like 18 flavors of guilt.

Jane is fun to write because she has a really nice, pleasant TONE to her pesterlog chat voice but she’s mad about half the time about something and is constantly struggling with like no I have to be cool I am collected and polite and in control versus WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS NERD I’M TALKING TO RIGHT NOW EVEN SAYING/DOING??? She tries so hard to keep a tight lid on everything and the dichotomy between Jane’s actual emotions at any given time and the pleasant way she’s trying to force her expression of them are what make her pesterlogs so funny. Oh and obviously sometimes the bottle overflows and explodes. Also you have to remember Jane outwardly is very sure of her own intelligence and understanding of the world to the point where she often misses very obvious things because she feels she already knows what is going on and takes situations for granted. Something I’d write her as actively Working On post-canon (along with the bottling things up too much stuff.) 

And Jake, I think a lot of people struggle with or are intimidated by writing Jake because of his vocabulary quirk, but when I write Jake I just try to keep in mind who he IS, what persona he’s trying to perform as, because Jake in pesterlogs is always trying to put out whatever persona he thinks is most what the person he’s talking to wants to see. Some flavor of movie hero. What’s fun about Jake’s quirk is that he uses those old timey words/minced oaths in a way that like, makes it seem like he’s adverse to swearing (like, say, equius) but then he’ll just let fly a sentence with both a minced oath AND flagrant fucks or shits or what have you without a single care and it’s like BOY WHAT? lmfao god I love Jake. It REALLY helps to re-read some of his actual writing in canon. One thing I see a lot is that people just assign him British slang which isn’t quite right – if you want a more accurate vocab list to pull from for Jake look up like early 1900s American slang, it’s more the flavor. The other big thing with him is that you actually have to structure his sentences such that like, he doesn’t use punctuation a lot so he has this like long run on rambly tone punctuated with short clipped sentences, it gives him a really specific kind of manic barely controlled tone, which is VERY APPROPRIATE because Jake English is like five seconds from flying apart in every conversation. 

I’ve never written john or jade in a pesterlog so imma not expound on them but I hope this helps a little 💪